A day after Christmas, Santa is back home recuperating. Jetlagged and nursing a terrible tummy ache, he yells for an elf to get antacid in his favourite orange flavour from the nearby pharmacy. His dietician had advised an all veggie diet to control his burgeoning weight. So he had stuck to having just Pizzas all through his world tour. Wasn’t it the Congressional delegation from Minnesota that had declared Pizza as a vegetable? And who knows better than the Senate! To force all that pepperoni down his gullet, he had swigged copious quantities of Cola which boasts of containing no traces of fruit at all. But despite his healthy intake, Santa had managed to put on another 15 pounds, got stuck in chimneys and had to be rescued by the Fire Brigade. So much for the surprise!
Santa was tired of being old all his life. Imagine a life with no teen angst, no cause to rebel and no mid-life crisis! To make it worse, his contract with “ChrissyMissy” forbade him to dye his hair black. Nopes, he was not allowed to look young, feel young and yet he was expected to go ho-ho-ho all the time. Stuck with the same hairstyle and delivering gifts in a horrendously red business suit, he had started feeling like a glorified courier boy.
On top of it, he had to deal with imbeciles who thought that working one night a year and spending the rest judging whether kids have been naughty or nice – life was one big party for him! Santa wished he could show them, how it felt to work overtime on a night, when the whole world was making merry. Carrying a gargantuan sack full of gifts.... dealing with the pressure of a deadline... navigating reindeers with zero sense of direction...sliding down all those dirty chimneys... Try spending some time in North Pole dude, with just reindeers and elves for company!
There were days Santa Claus wished he could run off to Hawaii, spend the rest of his endless life drinking Pina Colada and doing the hula in a grass skirt.